Stutely was met by the quiet murmur of voices as he stepped into the hall.
He didn't pay it much mind, at first. The saint bloke was still flitting around the place, prolly trying to foist more food on some unsuspecting soul. No, don't get him wrong, Francis was a good one – he'd raced to Tuck's side at the drop of the hat, and he'd sent the Sheriff packing with an army of rodents, and those two things alone earned him Stutely's enduring approval. It's just that Stutely wasn't good at being mothered after. Francis's concern was earnest and kind-hearted and he had absolutely no idea what to do with it.
The sound of conversation was louder in the kitchen. Stutely went to put the kettle on, make himself a cuppa, but halfway there his foot nudged something and he glanced down to see the broken cup. He frowned. Raised his voice to call out to whoever was about, "Alright in there?"